A Very Crawley Christmas
by cryingbutstilltrying
Summary: A particularly pernicious piece of gossip threatens to ruin Christmas for Cora Crawley and her beloved, albeit imperfect, family. Are the rumors true? And does it matter even if they are? Some fluff, some vague satire, some romance, lots of rambling character analysis :) Anyone who leaves positive feedback will have brightened my entire existence, so thank you for the support!


Cora Crawley drifted through the foyer, a few troublesome thoughts threatening to multiply in number and intensity even as her soft blue eyes and faint smile gave one the impression that only the fluffiest, lightest images would dare to enter her mind. Some of the society matrons who had long ago determined that Cora was eminently pleasant, serene and trusting in a way that only the vapid and oblivious can possibly be would have been surprised by just how much she silently observed and absorbed-and how much of that she retained, whether she wanted to or not.

The particularly pernicious piece of gossip that had reached her that morning had surely wound its way to other, far more eager listeners by now. The staff, most of whom Cora had come to consider extended members of the family and actually found quite a bit easier to be with than the real relatives she'd grown up with, would do their best to contain the rumors within the abbey's walls. That was of only minimal solace, though, considering that it was the people nearest and dearest to her who would be most adversely affected by the allegations. After all, they were the subject of them.

 _Not who we think they are…perhaps not even who_ _ **they**_ _think they are…dangerous dalliances…lascivious lip-locking…their real identities called into question…_

"I realize it's probably not true…" O'Brien had hastened to add, somehow managing to imply that she realized nothing of the sort. O'Brien was a deeply cynical woman, though Cora had decided that her bitterness stemmed from pain and insecurity rather than genuine malice. Unpleasant demeanors often hid genuinely good hearts. The fact that not one other person agreed with this comparatively rosy assessment of O'Brien did nothing to sway her.

"There are different sort of truths, and 'truth' itself is a rather malleable concept," Cora had murmured distractedly, more to herself than her lady's maid. "We all view things according to what we hope, fear or expect rather than as they actually are, don't we?"

"Er…well…"

"And while some truths are necessary, others are just pointlessly painful…" 

Cora made her way to the library and found herself gazing up at the portraits of dearly departed Crawleys, many of them wearing expressions which suggested that her beloved Robert's gruff kindness and frequent state of bewilderment had been inherited. Cora flashed these pictures a rather pained but hopeful smile. As one prone to daydreaming and overly imaginative conjecture that she never shared aloud with anyone other than her husband - and sometimes not even him - Cora sometimes wondered if the spirits of these men and women had somehow remained in the abbey long after their bodies had been disposed of. If so, she hoped they approved of how hard she and Robert worked to carry on their legacies and make them proud-and that they were willing to forgive the times she and Robert fallen rather short of those lofty goals.

"My grandpapa and grandmama would have loved you every bit as much as I do! Though obviously not in quite the same way…" Robert had once proclaimed, leaning in for a kiss. He was an intensely emotional man but, as with most Brits of his class, not naturally inclined to express the more inconveniently soft and soppy ones. A little more wine and a little less sleep, however, had always tended to inspire bumbling yet touching declarations of love.

"Despite my committing the sins of being half-Jewish and, worse yet, _American?"_ Cora had teased.

"As long as one has manners and money, many of those old chaps were quite tolerant of differences in religion and origin…or perhaps I just need to perceive them that way."

"Perceive them just as you need to," his wife had urged. Cora, had decided long ago that perceiving things as one needed to was the key to preserving one's happiness-and perhaps sanity.

This exchange had taken place a few years into their marriage, just around the time that they had faced and overcome one of their earliest and mightiest challenges. Robert loved her by then. He hadn't when they first married, but he did by then, and she knew he loved her still. Perhaps even as deeply and intensely as she had loved him since the very first moment they met…

Cora and Robert had had far more lengthy and poignant conversations in the decades that followed, but somehow that one about how he chose to perceive the ancestors of whom he was so proud remained most firmly lodged in her memory. _It was interesting,_ Cora mused, _exactly what we ended up remembering-and what we forgot. And how much easier life might be if we could choose exactly which of life's countless events would be retained and which could be conveniently eradicated._

She gave a decisive nod as if replying to an unspoken question that Robert's ancestors had been attempting to ask. Despite her reputed allergy to unpleasantness, with some claiming she was too oblivious to acknowledge it and too passive to confront it, a surprisingly ruthless pragmatic streak had always lurked beneath her soothing, gentle exterior. She would be the one to alert Robert, their daughters and sons-in-law to these vicious rumors.

" _Not who we think they are…perhaps not even who_ _ **they**_ _think they are…dangerous dalliances…lascivious lip-locking…their real identities called into question…"_

Well, perhaps she would toy with the phrasing a bit and omit portions that weren't quite necessary. Decades of eagerly fulfilling her responsibilities as a gracious hostess, supportive wife and carefully composed mother had taught Cora that sometimes what was said became far less important than how one said it. She would do her best to frame this rumor as tactfully and gently as possible, and perhaps even help to shape their subsequent reactions to it-or lack thereof. Perhaps she could make them understand just how much better it would be for all involved if they resolved not to respond at all.

Cora could then resume organizing the festivities and charitable events that might bring joy to others at this simultaneously special yet lonely time of year. She would work her hardest to ensure this was a happy holiday season for those who were here and refuse to dwell on the fact that Edith and Sybil would not be among them. And as an optimist by resolute choice if not entirely by nature, Cora reminded herself firmly that every holiday season brought its share of spirit-boosting, life-affirming surprises. One just had to know where to find them…


End file.
